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Snowboarder Jeremy Jones has always been a pioneer. He started skiing at the age of three, and snowboarding at nine, and first came to prominence in the mid 1990s as a hard boot-wearing snowboard racer. After narrowly missing out on a place at the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan, he stopped racing to dedicate himself to his true passion – freeriding.

For Jones, snowboarding in its purest form was riding untracked, big-mountain powder runs in the most imaginative way possible. He soon made a name for himself as one of the most extreme freeriders in the world, changing the way snowboarders saw the sport with every hard-charging, Alaskan first descent he posted.

“I love the solitude of being in the mountains, and the ever-changing conditions and terrain,” he says. “I love riding untouched mountains. There is so much room for creativity. There’s no wrong or right way to ride them and no matter how well you ride a mountain, it can always be ridden better. Also, the whole process of searching for new lines, studying the snow and eventually safely riding them is really fulfilling.”

Jones went on to star in a host of top movies, including The Tangerine Dream, Anomaly and Soul Purpose. In 2007, he founded Protect Our Winters (POW), a non-profit organisation dedicated to uniting the wintersports community in the fight against climate change. One way of doing this was to forego the use of lifts and helicopters to access the mountains, opting instead to hike and climb. This ethos was showcased in the 2010 movie Deeper, which saw Jones, and other top riders, travelling into the backcountry and away from the confines of conventional ski resorts in search of new and untouched snowboarding environments to conquer. The film, which saw him scaling then riding some of the steepest faces ever ridden, really cemented Jones’ reputation as a true innovator and legend of the sport.

For Jones, who has developed his own line of snowboards – Jones Snowboards – taking his riding to such extremes was the next logical step in a career spent searching for isolated, perfect, steep lines of soft snow. “These films are about finding the dream lines, waiting for the perfect conditions and riding them in good, soft snow,” he says. “It’s not about the trophy peak.”

Deeper’s approach changed the freeriding landscape by showing it is possible to access insane lines without the help of helis – and now the sequel, Further, looks set to do the same. It’s the same principle, only this time Jones is going even – yes – further in his quest to find the perfect run.

How is Further different from Deeper?

With Deeper I learned a lot about going into mountains on foot and making movies about it. We’ve evolved the production and the riding side. With Deeper, I realised there are no more boundaries, so Further takes me more off the map, to locations such as Svalbard in Norway and the Japanese Alps.

You’re already planning the third instalment of the trilogy, Higher. Where are you hoping to travel for that one?

I’ve got a list of about 10 destinations, but you’ll have to wait and see the film. Usually, I start with a list, but it’s so unpredictable sometimes I may hit just one of them or none at all. You have to be pretty flexible with Mother Nature. The films usually take a couple of winters to make.

What does your wife think about what you do?

She’s accepted what I do. If she didn’t, and it was too hard on my family life, I would stop what I’m doing. She’s been very supportive. I spend a lot of time in the mountains with her.

How does what you do compare to the dangers of ordinary skiing or snowboarding?

The most serious accidents I have seen in the mountains have been on intermediate backcountry terrain. I could have been with my wife on it. If you look at the fatalities last year, it tends to be in that kind of terrain. Not that I’m saying this means that when I get into the steep stuff, it makes it any less serious. But if you gave me the choice between riding 50-degree faces and guiding unknown clients on 30-degree bowls of powder, I’d take the 50-degree faces with the experienced crew every day. I don’t mean that negatively, I just think people gain comfort from thinking, “Well, I like the backcountry but I can’t do what that guy does.” But look at the numbers.

I hate to say it, but I’ve lost more friends in resorts over the years than anywhere else. There’s risk everywhere. That doesn't downplay what we’re doing. I have the utmost respect, humility and anxiety for what we’re doing, because I know it’s serious stuff.

How do you judge a run?

The main thing is evaluating avalanche conditions. We start on small, steep slopes with safe outruns, of similar aspect and elevation to the one we’re planning. Next, we’ll cut a small cornice so it lands on the test slope, acting as a bomb. Then we’ll abseil on to the slope and dig a pit. If we like the pit, we’ll ski across the slope to cut it, testing the snowpack’s stability.

From there, we’ll work our way up to bigger slopes. If the snowpack is solid then things move quickly. We’ll land at a possible camera angle; riders will discuss lines and get a photo with their digi cam. Once we’re on top of the intended line I will hike around to see as much of the slope as possible. I’ll double check with my photo I’m in the right spot, and then possibly drop another cornice or get a snow report if someone goes before me. Before dropping in I’ll determine an island of safety if the slope slides, and will always have a sluff management plan.

When were you last really scared out riding?

I walked out of a line in Chile this summer – not because I thought I was going to die. The last thing I wanted to do was take my snowboard off and hike back up, but I did it because I didn’t like what was in front of me. I didn’t have an ice axe or crampons, it was hard snow and a no-fall situation. No big deal, but I was happy when I was off the snow, for sure.

How often does it go that way?

It’s common. I approach a line with the attitude that it’s a huge maybe. A line is guilty until proven innocent. I’m looking for reasons to turn around. When everything is perfect, you’re strapped in at the top saying, “God, I can’t believe it, I’m about to shred this incredible line.” It almost seems too good to be true. My approach to snowboarding – my whole career, even – has been about finding these steep lines with soft snow and riding them safely. That’s what drives me.

What are your favourite resorts?

Jackson Hole – it’s 1200m of vertical with every type of riding imaginable – and my home resort of Squaw Valley.

Tell me about Jones Snowboards. What’s the ethos of the brand?

The ethos? Snowboards for riding mountains is the short answer. Obviously we’re heavily backcountry-focused, but the reality of the backcountry is that it isn’t all just powder, powder, powder, as you soon learn. Being able to ride in hard snow is critical, so our boards work phenomenally well in poor conditions as well as powder.

The industry’s bigger brands seem to market to younger riders. Would you say your boards are more for the discerning, older rider?

Our stereotypical rider has been riding for 10 years, he’s more in the 25- to 45-year-old range. It’s why I started Jones, as I wasn’t getting the boards I needed. I knew other guys who also were not getting the boards they needed. So, I decided to make boards that would suit experienced snowboarders who know how to ride and understand the mountains. I felt this was something the industry wasn’t catering for.

Are you worried about how the economic downturn might affect Jones?

Not really. I didn’t start Jones to become this mega brand. We’re a niche brand, and one thing that’s never died in snowboarding is the passionate riders at the serious resorts. They’ve been there doing what they do from day one whether or not the media thought what they were doing was cool or not. Right now, we are a little bit cool and we get to be in magazines, but we’ll be uncool again in a few years.

What advice would you give an ordinary, two-week-a-year snowboarder, inspired by watching your films, who’s keen to take their riding to the next level and experience somewhere like Alaska? How should they prepare and where should they go?

How I prepare – and this is what I tell people to do – is by going and riding a lot of steep, hardpack snow, while wearing a backpack, over and over again. Top to bottom runs, off piste – the worst conditions the better. Go to Chamonix for a week and really ride until you can barely walk. That would be a good start.

What does snowboarding mean to you after all you’ve been through together?

I’ve focused my life on snowboarding and it has been very good to me in return. I really love to surf, but there’s no question snowboarding comes first. It’s just so easy to walk off the side of the road and achieve true solitude in untouched mountains if you’re not afraid to hike for it. Snowboarding is a gift that keeps on giving – the list of things I want to do in snowboarding will keep me riding forever.